Dreamscape
by InfinityStar
Summary: Not long after giving birth, Alex finds her subconscious taking her to disturbing places, and Bobby just doesn't help matters any.
1. Forbidden Dreams

Disclaimer: Of course, they belong to Dick Wolf, and always will...

* * *

Alex Eames leaned back in her bed and stretched, feeling only a twinge in her lower abdomen. She was almost feeling back to normal, physically. Emotionally, however, well, that was a different story. She was feeling…alone. Very alone. For the past nine months, she had never been alone, not for a moment. And now she felt empty.

She got out of bed and pulled on her robe, tightening the belt around her rapidly reducing waist. She wandered into the living room and sat on the couch, letting her mind reflect on how much she missed the baby her body had sheltered. She missed talking to him, feeling him move around inside her…she missed him being inside her. She did not regret what she'd done for her sister, not for one second. She never would. But the emptiness she felt had come as a huge surprise to her.

She shivered, uncertain if it was because she was cold or because her body was still recovering from the ordeal of giving birth. She got up and went down the hall to the linen closet, where she pulled out a blanket before returning to the couch. Leaning toward the coffee table, she picked up the remote and turned the TV on. Making a comfortable nest for herself in a corner of the couch, she pulled the blanket around her and began channel surfing. Ah, 'Terms of Endearment.' She'd seen it a hundred times, but she was in the mood for a tear-jerker. Hell, it seemed like she was on the verge of tears all day long anyway. Damn hormones.

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There was a soft knock at the door. She frowned, not sure she'd heard it. She picked up the remote and hit 'mute.' Yep, there it was again. Sighing, she pulled herself from her spot and went to the door. Opening it, she stopped, surprised. "Bobby?"

Her partner studied her. "Uh, bad time?"

"What? Oh, not at all. Come in."

He glanced at the TV as she closed the door. "'Terms of Endearment' again?"

He'd watched it with her more than a few times, because that had been what she'd wanted to watch. "What brings you here?"

"I just…missed you."

She knew he did; she missed him, too. Funny how you never realized how important someone was to you until they weren't there every day, making you laugh, annoying the piss out of you or simply just…being there.

But why had he chosen this particular time to drop by, when she was feeling so…down. She knew her sister appreciated what she'd done, and she asked for nothing in return. Her family was busy with the new baby boy and she understood that. She tried not to feel resentful, but she did. She knew it was temporary—those damn hormones again—but that didn't make her resentment go away. She felt as though they had swooped in, taken the baby and left, leaving her to deal with the emptiness alone.

But…she wasn't alone. Once she had stopped going in to the squad, Bobby had taken to calling her every day before he left work, to see if she needed anything, and again when he got home, to chat and to let her know, simply, that he did miss her. She'd been annoyed with him before the baby was born, but since then, she found herself looking forward to his calls, to talking to him, hearing the smooth, gentle rumble of his voice. He was sweet and considerate, but she'd always known he was. She admitted, though only to herself, that what she really needed, he could not give her. Well, he could, technically, but she wouldn't let him, even if he did have a mind to do it, which she was certain he did not. That just wasn't part of their relationship; it never could be. What she truly appreciated was his attention. She needed his attention, more than she ever had before.

She sat back down on the couch, pulling the blanket around her and trembling. He watched her, concerned. Slowly, he walked over to her and eased himself onto the couch beside her. She struggled with herself to hold back the tears, but she'd already held them back too long. She looked down, trying to hide from him, knowing full well she could not. She never could. He moved closer and, hesitantly, put his arm around her. That was it. She collapsed in his arms and cried out her loneliness, her emptiness, everything she was feeling but couldn't express to anyone but him.

He was confused as he held her, wondering if it was something he had done, or _not_ done, that had upset her. But he stayed quiet, just holding her, since that seemed to be what she wanted. Instinctively, as a measure of comfort, he kissed her head. He didn't know what else to do. She snuggled closer to him, and he gently kissed her temple. Then she turned her head further toward him and, without thinking, brushed her lips across his.

He was too surprised to move, so he didn't. She raised her hand to his cheek, gently sliding it along his face, caressing his ear, slipping her fingers into his hair as she pressed her lips against his again, more firmly this time. She teased his lips with her tongue and he let them part, allowing her to slide her tongue past them. He moaned deeply, fanning the fire that had sprung up inside her with unexpected suddenness and ferocity. She rolled closer, pressing him back into the couch…And the doorbell rang.

Alex jerked awake. What the hell! Shaking the sleep from her mind, she got up from the couch and went to the door. Opening it, she was surprised to see the focus of her dream standing in the hallway. He frowned. "I woke you. Alex, I am so sorry."

"No," she insisted. "Come on in."

She'd needed to be woken. He stepped into the apartment and held up a bag. "I brought dinner. In the mood for Chinese?"

"I'm in the mood for…" She stopped. What the hell was she going to tell him? That she was in the mood for…him? "…just about anything. I'm famished."

He smiled uncertainly. She was acting oddly. Maybe it was normal for a woman who had recently given birth, but he had no way to know, and he wasn't about to ask.

He headed into the kitchen to dish out the food, and she watched him, noting for the thousandth time how gracefully he moved when he wasn't playing the bumbling detective. She sighed. _Get a grip on yourself, Eames. He's your damn partner. You should _not_ be thinking about him this way._

But she had no control over what her subconscious did while she slept. She could swear at it all she wanted to, and it would change nothing. Damn! It had seemed so real…_felt_ so damn real…

"Alex?"

She just realized he'd been talking to her. "What?"

"Are you all right?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You just seem…out of sorts? I mean, you just had a baby…"

"That's right, I did. And my hormones are all out of whack, and I'm sore and tired all the time, and I don't even have a baby…"

She stopped, horrified. She hadn't said that to anyone before. She placed a hand over her mouth and looked at him. He had no idea what to do, and she could see that on his face. She didn't know what to do either, so they just stood there and looked at each other.


	2. Emptiness

Eames looked away from him, not even trying to stop the tears that spilled from her eyes. Why the hell had she said that? She hadn't told anyone how she was feeling…it was something she considered private. Yes, she missed the baby, but he had never been hers. And the longing for a baby of her own was akin to a physical pain. But that was her problem, not anyone else's. She did not need to burden him with this.

She returned to the couch in a hurry and buried herself back under the blanket, hoping he hadn't realized she was crying. She hated to show weakness, any weakness, to anyone. But Bobby…he always understood, and that thought just made her cry harder.

Goren stayed where he was. His first impulse was to take her in his arms and hold her, but he didn't want to get himself smacked. His second impulse was to leave her alone. What he really needed to do, he realized, was somewhere in between, and that was even more difficult, because he had no clue what that in-between something was. He just knew that he honestly did not have it in him to leave while she was in such turmoil, especially after what she'd just said, and how she'd reacted having said it.

First, he decided to give her a minute to herself. Let her collect herself. The last time she'd lost it in front of him like this and he'd tried to comfort her right away, she'd only gotten angrier, and she'd ended up taking it all out on him. That had been an ugly scene.

He slipped back in to the kitchen and put the food into the refrigerator, guessing, correctly, that she wouldn't be up to eating right now. He studied the contents of the fridge.Moving the milk, he found a four-pack of wine coolers. Not quite beer, but it might help her to relax. And she needed to relax for some reason. He didn't quite understand why she was so upset, but he did understand it had something to do with giving up the baby. He pulled a bottle from the four-pack and, taking a deep breath, headed into the living room.

She felt him sit beside her on the couch, but she refused to look at him. And he just sat there. Finally, she lowered the blanket and looked at him. He gave her a sheepish grin. Her sobs had quieted, and she could speak again. "I…I'm sorry, Bobby."

He shook his head. "Don't apologize." He offered her the wine cooler. "Maybe this will help you relax?"

"And that will make me feel better?"

"Maybe."

She held back from snapping at him. He meant well; he really didn't know what else to do. She held out her hand. He opened the bottle and handed it to her. "Go back into the kitchen and find something, Goren. I am not drinking alone. I don't have any beer, but there's some stuff in the cabinet over the fridge."

He hesitated, but she gave him a look and he got up and went back into the kitchen. She looked at the bottle and wondered if this would help. Maybe she could sleep tonight without dreaming. It wasn't that her dreams were unpleasant, because they weren't. They were just…too pleasant. She enjoyed them a lot more than she felt she should. And that made her feel guilty. It was like a snowball rolling down a hill.

He came back out with a tumbler full of amber fluid. She looked at him suspiciously. "That's not apple juice, is it?"

He smiled. "No." He set the glass on the coffee table and sat beside her again. "Are you feeling any better?"

"I don't know how I'm feeling, to be honest with you. I'm so sorry, Bobby. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I don't know why I blurted that out. It really isn't your problem."

"Why not?"

She looked at him, surprised. Just when she least expected it, he always came up with something…unexpected. "I…" she trailed off, not sure how to answer his question. "What do you mean, 'why not'?"

"Just what I said. Why do you think it's not my problem?"

"Last time I checked you hadn't given birth and…oh, forget it."

He was giving her that odd look, his head tilted. "Eames…"

She looked at him and held up a finger in warning. "Do not analyze me, Bobby."

"I…I wasn't trying to. I…just want to…understand."

"Understand what? How empty I feel? How alone I am?" Oh, shit…how the hell did he do that? She looked away, making an effort not to look at him.

He looked at his hands. He was making her uncomfortable, and he didn't want to do that. "I can go, if you want me to."

"Do you want to go?"

Ok, what was the right answer here? He felt trapped. If he said yes, she'd accuse him of running away. If he said no, she'd accuse him of wanting to get into her head. Neither was true…but she wasn't being…herself right now. He decided to be honest. "No."

"Then why did you offer?"

Finally he looked at her. "This isn't about me. This is about you. How you're feeling. If I'm making you feel worse, I'll go."

"No…no. You don't make me feel worse. I…" She closed her eyes, entirely unsure of exactly what she should say. "I want you to stay." _For now_, she added in her mind.

He silently handed her the box of tissues from the table. She looked at the tissues, then at him, and she laughed. He looked confused, but he made no comment. She took the tissues and settled back against the couch. "Want to watch a movie with me?"

"Sure."

That was Bobby. Anything she wanted. He was always ready to do whatever she wanted. She smiled at him, and he smiled back…that sleepy-eyed smile she'd come to love…there went her mind again, with her damn body trotting right along after it. Maybe it would be better if he left…but damn it, she didn't want him to go. "You want to pick the movie?"

"No way. I tried that once, remember?"

"Ok, I fell asleep. I was tired."

"So this time you pick the movie and I'll go to sleep."

She looked at him, the glimmer in his eye, the half-smile…and she laughed again. That's why she needed him to stay. He could always brighten her mood, whether he was trying to or not. She leaned toward him and gently kissed him, then rested her fingers on his lips. "Thank you, Bobby."

She got up and walked over to her video cabinet, pulling the doors open. He touched his lips, again confused. She was really making him work today. "Uh, f-for what?"

She looked over her shoulder at him. "For caring, for making me feel better, for being here, with me, now, because I…need you." She looked back into the cabinet. …_For things you don't even know about…_

She pushed the thought away and chose a movie, holding the case up for him to see as she placed the DVD into its tray. He raised an eyebrow. "_The Sound of Music_?"

"Bad movie?"

"No, great movie."

"Why am I not surprised that you've seen it?"

He propped his arm against the back of the couch and leaned his head on his hand. "I don't know. You tell me."

He had relaxed since her mood had settled and she felt more at ease as well. She picked up her wine cooler from the coffee table and settled on the couch beside him. He leaned closer. "Hungry yet?"

She looked surprised. "We didn't eat, did we?"

"Not yet."

She started to get up but he gently pulled her back. "I'll get it."

Before she could object, he was up and halfway to the kitchen. Five minutes later, he was back with two plates of hot food. "A bachelor who can use a microwave," she teased.

"I know my way around a kitchen," he protested.

"Sure you do, cowboy."

"I'll prove it to you. I'll make you dinner Saturday night."

She looked at him. "All right. It's a date." He raised his eyebrows at her phrasing. "Oh, grow up," she muttered, turning her attention back to the movie. He watched her for a moment, then, with a small smile, followed her lead and watched the movie. He was troubled by what had transpired, by how upset she'd been. But she was better now, so he was not going to bring it back up. This was definitely something she needed to deal with, and he would make certain that she did. But not tonight…


	3. Nightmare

She opened the door and stepped into the room. It was a large room, a nursery. Outside, the rain beat a staccato rhythm against the window pane. Inside, the walls were decorated with pairs of animals, punctuated by arks and rainbows. A dresser and changing table were off to one side of the room, and, against the wall in the far corner, was a crib. It was a sweet room. She headed across the room toward the crib, apprehension growing inside her the closer she got, though she didn't know why. Hearing a noise behind her, she turned. There was a bright light, casting the door in shadows, but she recognized the silhouette that stood there. Her apprehension faded. There was no reason for her to be afraid when he was nearby. She continued her journey across the room toward the crib. She didn't know why she was there; she didn't even know whose baby it was in the crib. But there was an eerie silence in the room. She glanced back over her shoulder. The silhouette remained. Finally, she got to the crib. A Noah's Ark mobile turned lazily on its axis above the baby's bed. A pillow and blanket were settled on the mattress beneath the mobile. Reaching down into the bed, she folded the blanket back from the baby…but the baby was gone…Her heart leaped into her throat. Where could he be? Turning, seeking comfort and advice from the man in the doorway, everything came crashing down around her when she saw the silhouette was gone. The room started spinning…everything faded away to nothing….only emptiness remained…emptiness and fear…she started to run, but she was getting nowhere…and she shouted his name into the emptiness…

"Bobby!"

She sat bolt upright in her bed, drenched with sweat, her heart pounding rapidly in her chest. She had trouble catching her breath. She was shaking uncontrollably…before she even knew what she was doing she had her phone in her hand, dialing with trembling fingers a number she knew by heart. The ring echoed in her head as she mumbled, "Pick up….pick up…" She was still trembling. "Damn it, pick up…"

The line clicked, then a groggy voice answered, "Hello?"

She choked a sob back into her throat. "Bobby?"

"Eames? What's wrong? Are you ok?"

Just hearing his voice calmed her down, though not enough to keep the shakiness from her voice. "Yeah, yeah, I-I'm fine."

"So why are we on the phone at…uh…three-thirty in the morning?"

"Is that what time it is? Damn."

"You sound shaky. What's wrong?"

"N-nothing. Really."

"You called me in the middle of the night for nothing?"

"I called…" Oh, hell…she did. She did call him. How was she going to get out of this one? "I…I'm sorry. I…just…I…oh, never mind. It's not important."

"Eames," he sounded fully awake now. "It's not nothing and it's not unimportant. I know you better."

"Look, Bobby, just forget it, ok? I'm sorry I woke you…it was just…stupid, ok? I'll call you in the morning."

She set the phone in its cradle before he could say anything else. She sat there for a few minutes, hugging her knees, willing her trembling to stop. Damn. She slid out of bed and walked to the kitchen. Why _had_ she called him? It was just a stupid dream. What the hell was it about him that she just couldn't get out of her head?

She pulled the mug of water out of the microwave when it beeped and dropped a teabag into it. She recalled the panic she'd felt in her dream at turning around toward the doorway and finding him gone. She had been terrified…and in her terror, she had sought him out. She hated being frightened…it made her feel weak. And the only person in the world she was comfortable showing that weakness to was…her partner? No, more than her partner…he was her best friend. Of course she turned to him. Who else would she turn to? Who else would understand her? But did he understand? She'd seen the confusion on his face often of late. She wasn't about to explain hormones to him. So how could she explain her erratic behavior? He would know it had to do with the pregnancy and the birth. Bobby wasn't stupid. She hoped he would realize this was all temporary, and not give up on her. No…he wouldn't give up on her. Never. After all, she hadn't given up on him, had she? Well, almost…but almost didn't count. This wasn't horseshoes or hand grenades.

She tossed the teabag into the trash, added a little milk and a lot of sugar. Drifting aimlessly into the living room, she curled up in her corner of the couch with her blanket, and she was suddenly still. She brought the blanket up to her face and took a deep breath. She started trembling again as the scent of his cologne drifted to her from the blanket. It was Friday night, er, Saturday morning, and it had been two days since he'd sat on the couch with her half the night, watching _The Sound of Music_ and just staying because she'd asked him to, despite the fact he had to go in to work the next morning…but his scent lingered, and she…felt closer to him somehow, because of it. She _missed_ him. Talking to him had helped a little. Just the sound of his voice had settled her. She didn't want to think about what her dream could mean. She just wanted to sleep without dreaming…

Her tea was gone and she had drifted off on the couch, cuddled up within the blanket, when a knock at the door jolted her to wakefulness. She looked around the room, and another knock sounded…a cop's knock this time, forceful and certain. She got up and walked to the door, looking through the peephole. She felt the tension flee her body as she recognized the person on the other side of the door. Twisting the deadbolt out of its cradle, she pulled the door open and looked at her partner. He stood there looking back at her, hair disheveled, the hint of sleep still in his eyes. "You can't be surprised to see me," he said, hiding his relief at finding her ok.

She stepped away from the door and went back to the couch, not answering him. He came into the apartment and relocked the door. She didn't look at him. He watched her for a minute before he slid out of his jacket and hung it on the coat rack near the door, a coat rack he'd given her because he got tired of draping his coat over the back of the couch and then sitting against it. He walked over to the couch and sat beside her. Content to wait for her to speak, he leaned his large frame back and stretched out his legs. She finally turned her head to look at him. He was casually dressed, in jeans and a white button-up shirt with no tie. She hardly expected him to put on a suit to play therapist in the middle of the night. "Why'd you come over?" she asked.

"Did you expect me to just let it go where you left me? You woke me up in the middle of the night, your voice shaking like hell, and you expect me to just accept that 'it was stupid' and go back to sleep? Come on, Eames, you know me better than that."

"I…I had a bad dream. I…I don't know why I called you, Bobby. I didn't even realize I'd done it until you answered. It was…just a dream." Just a dream…

He moved closer to her, sliding his arm along the back of the sofa. She didn't move until his fingers gently touched her shoulder. Dissolving into tears, she fell into his arms and cried. He just held her, because that seemed to be what she wanted him to do.

When she quieted, he still didn't move. The only thing he knew to do was follow her lead. If she wanted to pull back from his arms, she would, and he would let her. But she didn't. So he held her. When he looked down at her, to make sure that she was ok, he was surprised to see that she was asleep. What the hell was going on with his partner? Hormones? He heard a lot about hormone fluctuations following pregnancy. He'd even read up on it after she'd gotten pregnant. He wouldn't tell her that, but he did. He'd done a lot of reading about pregnancy, to help him understand what she was going through as best that he, as a man, could. He leaned back slowly, sliding over a little so that she was in a more comfortable position. She shifted in her sleep, snuggling closer to him. He smiled; he liked having her close. Draping his arm over her protectively, he picked the remote up from the end table and switched on the television.


	4. Oops

**A/N: Bobby always seems to be the vulnerable one...it's time to give Alex some vulnerability**

* * *

She stirred restlessly in her sleep, waking him. He hadn't intended to drift off, but he was comfortable, she was close, and the indistinct worries that had plagued him since she'd given birth had settled, for the time being. She'd seemed so tired lately, and he didn't want to disturb her if she was sleeping well. He knew nothing about her sleep patterns, so he waited for a more definite sign she was having a nightmare. She shifted into a more comfortable position, her head resting in the hollow of his shoulder, chest snuggled against his side. He was leaning into the corner of the couch, and she was nestled against him. He tipped his head forward a little, so he could see her face. She looked relaxed. She took a deep breath as she moved her arm from his abdomen to his chest, slipping her hand between the buttons on his shirt and settling back into a quiet sleep. He looked at her hand, half in his shirt, fingers resting against his bare skin, and he wasn't sure about this at all. It felt…good. Too good. The thought crossed his mind that he really ought to move that hand, but he didn't want to disturb her, so he let it be. Gently tightening his arm about her, frustrated that he couldn't protect her from whatever it was that was troubling her, he forced himself to relax and she sighed softly in her sleep. His hand hovered above her face, and he decided against touching her. She seemed to be sleeping soundly, even if her hand kept moving. So he closed his eyes and tried to focus on something other than the woman sleeping against him with her fingers lightly brushing through the soft hair on his chest in her sleep. 

He was sleeping when she woke up. Her eyes widened when she saw her hand tucked into his shirt. Hoping he hadn't noticed, she withdrew it, blushing. She gently slipped from under the protection of his arm and sat up. Then she remembered why he was there. She'd called him…she'd _called_ him, in the middle of the night, because of a _dream_! What was wrong with her, bothering him like that in the dead of night? And he'd come right over, because she'd sounded upset. What was wrong with _him_? He should have just told her to go back to sleep and forget about it, like her folks always did when she was a girl. It was just a dream. But no…he'd come over and held her until she went back to sleep. And then he'd stayed. But…snuggled up against his broad chest…she'd slept, peacefully. What was up with that?

She jumped when a hand came to rest on her back. "Sorry," he murmured. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"I just…I thought you were asleep."

"I was, until you moved."

"I tried not to wake you."

"As you are so fond of pointing out, I notice everything. Do you feel better?"

She thought about it. "I do," she replied. And she did. A lot better. "I'm ok now. You really can go back home."

"Does that mean you want me to leave?"

"No," she said. _Crap_. She'd answered that way too quickly. "Yes. I mean, I'm fine, and you can go if you want to."

"And if I prefer to stay because I don't believe that you are ok?"

"You think I'm lying to you?"

"Not lying…but I think you don't want me to worry anymore."

She hated how he could read her so well. "Really, I do feel better."

"I believe that, but I don't believe you're fine."

"Ok, then. Stay if you want to. I'm not going to sit here and argue about it. I'll fix you some breakfast."

She was annoyed with him, but he wasn't about to let her chase him away. Something was troubling her. For her to have called him at all was one thing, but hearing how upset she was…no, this wasn't right. This wasn't like her at all. So he was going to be stubborn about it and stay with her until he knew she was ok…until he saw it in her face and her posture, her attitude…and right now, everything told him that she was _not_ ok.

He stayed on the couch for a little while before he got up and walked to the doorway between the breakfast nook and the kitchen. She knew he was there, but she didn't say anything. She wasn't going to let the eggs burn so she could scold him for worrying…not when she was the one who'd given him something to worry _about_. So she ignored him, which was worse.

Spooning the eggs onto two plates, which already had bacon on them, she picked them up and turned. She almost dropped the plates, and he jumped forward, taking them from her. He leaned to the side so he could see her face, but she turned away from him. "Put the plates on the table, Bobby. I'll be right there."

"Alex…"

"Go."

He hesitated for a moment, but did as she asked. She leaned back against the refrigerator where she knew he couldn't see her. When she had turned with the plates, seeing him there, leaning against the wall…Her heart had skipped a beat and she'd damn near dumped both plates all over the floor. It wasn't that she didn't expect him to be standing there…she didn't expect her _reaction_ to seeing him standing there.

How the hell could she let this happen? Well, she didn't let it happen…no, she would never have let it happen. And she had to stop blaming it on childbirth. She also had to get this all under control before she went back to work. She took a few deep breaths. Finally feeling steady, she turned to the refrigerator, opened it and took out a carton of orange juice. Grabbing two glasses, she headed for the table. He had set the plates down and was waiting for her, his chin resting on his hands. She couldn't help but smile at him. He could always make her smile.

"I'm sorry. I guess I'm still a little shaken up."

That wasn't a lie. She just wasn't telling him what she was shaken up about. Of course, she knew what was coming…

"What happened? Why were you so upset?"

Yep, that was it. How was she going to answer this so that she could appease him without embarrassing herself? She salted her eggs and mixed them on the plate. Then she poured orange juice into both glasses.

She was stalling and he knew it. It didn't bother him so much what she was doing as why. But if she was uncomfortable enough to stall, he wasn't going to push it. So he sat there quietly, waiting for her to answer him.

She slid his orange juice toward him and said quietly, "Yes, I know you have more patience than I ever will, and I won't even try to outwait you."

"Are you going to answer me?"

"You mean I have a choice?"

"Not unless you want me as a permanent fixture on your couch."

She was having a hard time not smiling. "You have to go to work eventually."

"I have some vacation time coming, and I haven't used a sick day in two years. I have time."

She couldn't help it. She laughed. "I love you, Goren," she said. Then she stopped. Had she just said what she prayed to God she hadn't said? She looked for his reaction. He didn't have one. Oh, shit…that was _not_ a good sign.

What had she done?


	5. He Understood

He sat there for a minute, looking at her. But he didn't say anything. Then he looked away, brow creased, and got up, walking into the living room and dropping down onto the couch. She watched him lean forward, arms on his knees, head down. She knew that posture…he was thinking. Again, not a good sign. She had no clue what he could be thinking or how he was feeling. As good as he was at reading her, he was that much better at hiding from her. She walked slowly into the living room, never taking her eyes away from him.

"Bobby…" she started, sitting lightly beside him.

"What's this all about, Alex? Because I'm really confused here."

"I didn't…" she trailed off. No, she couldn't tell him she didn't mean it. Firstly, that would be a lie, and she didn't want to lie to him. She did love him, very much. She had for a long time. Secondly, she had a strong feeling he felt the same way, and she couldn't hurt him like that. He'd been hurt too much in his life by people he loved.

He turned his head toward her. Why had she stopped? She'd spoken without thinking, said the wrong thing…he knew what was next. So he completed her statement for her. "You didn't mean it."

What was he doing? She couldn't read his face…for a change it was almost blank. "Is that what you want me to say?"

"Only if it's the truth."

"The truth…" She thought about that for a minute. "You want the truth? Do you really want the truth, Bobby?" He didn't answer, but the blank look on his face had changed to one of surprise. She leaned closer. "Be careful what you ask for."

She leaned back, not really knowing what else to say. But she did know one thing she had to get straight. She had to tell him the truth. "I won't tell you I didn't mean it, because I did. I just…didn't mean to _say_ it."

"Like you didn't mean to call me at three o'clock in the morning?"

"Exactly."

"Ok, Eames…I give up. I really don't know what you want me to do here."

"Why does it matter what I want? You're staying, remember?"

He almost laughed, but he really wasn't amused. He was frustrated, almost angry. He swallowed those feelings though, quickly. Frustration and anger would be of no help here whatsoever. So he got up and went over to the table. He took the dishes from the table into the kitchen. Frowning, she watched him. "Why the hell are you washing the dishes?" she asked, once she realized what he was doing.

"Because I don't know what else to do and if I don't do something I'll explode."

She smiled. That was her Bobby. Always needing to be doing something, burning off that boundless energy of his. She waited for him to finish and come back into the living room. "Somehow," she said as she watched him pace the room restlessly, "I doubt you would ever become a _fixture_ on my couch."

He looked at her, his mouth twitching slightly as he tried to hide his smile, before he lowered himself back onto the couch beside her. When he finally turned to look at her, no hint of a smile remained. "What's going on with you?"

His face was sincere; he really was worried. She expected no less…not from him. She turned sideways on the couch, fully facing him. "I'm sorry I've worried you. I tried…" She looked down at the couch between them. His hands were knotted in his lap, a sure sign that he was uneasy. "I never meant to do this to you."

And she had known, ever since she'd started feeling so…out-of-sorts…that he would worry. She doubted he'd ever had to deal with a post-partum partner before. He probably never had to deal with a post-partum anyone before. But when her dreams had turned so…God, she wasn't even sure how to classify them. Erotic? Just the thought of that embarrassed her. There was no friggin' way she was going to tell him that! But her nightmare…that had never happened before and it still frightened her. Maybe that one she could discuss with him without having to wear a paper bag over her head to face him again.

"Alex?" She looked at him blankly. He touched her arm, bringing her crashing back from her thoughts. "Please," he said softly. "Don't shut me out. You called me for a reason, and I know it wasn't to torment me. Whatever you need…I'm here and I'll do whatever I can to help, but I have to know what's wrong."

How could she tell him that he was a big part of what was wrong, and an even bigger part of what was right? _Ok, Alex…let's start with the nightmare and see where this goes_. If she was lucky, she'd be able to get through this with her dignity still somewhat intact.

She wanted coffee…but she'd forgotten to make some. If she got up now to do it, he'd think she was stalling again, and maybe she was. Never mind the coffee…she'd get it later. He was more important than her need for caffeine…and she could tell his agitation was increasing. He couldn't help it…he wanted…no, not any more. He _needed_ to know what was wrong with her.

"I'll be perfectly honest with you, Bobby. I don't know what's wrong. My emotions have been all over the place, and for no good reason."

"But that's not why you called me."

"No. That's not why I called you. I don't even know why I called you. I…had a bad dream, and I was scared, and I didn't even think about it. I called you. And then I was embarrassed because I did. How ridiculous was that, to call you because of a stupid dream? I woke you up, and I doubt somehow that you even sleep that much to start with…and…why are you looking at me that way?"

His head was tilted to the side and he'd raised an eyebrow. "I've never heard you ramble before."

And she really hadn't told him a thing he didn't already know. "I'm embarrassed, ok?"

"Why?"

"Didn't I just go through that?"

"So? You called me and woke me up. That's not a big deal. You were scared by something, and that _is_ a big deal. Tell me about the dream."

"I'm not sure I want to go back there."

He'd have to ease her into this. "Where is there?"

Ok…she'd give him that much. "A room."

"A room? What kind of room?"

"It was…a nursery. Noah's Ark."

He frowned. "A nursery on Noah's Ark?"

She laughed again. "No. A nursery decorated with Noah's Ark."

That made more sense. He gave her a small smile. "Ok. What was in the room?"

"Just baby furniture."

"And what did you do in the room?"

"I…walked across it." She suddenly tensed and she could feel the trembling start. She jumped to her feet, walking around the room like he did when he was agitated, trying to hide it from him. Like that was going to work… "I walked toward the crib…and I heard something…something behind me."

"What was it?"

"I don't know. But when I turned I could see a silhouette in the doorway, and I felt better."

"Who was it?"

"It was just a silhouette." She wasn't sure she wanted to tell him who it was. "So I went back to walking toward the crib. And when I got there, and I folded back the blanket…"

She couldn't hide the shaking any more, and he couldn't let her stand there like that. He got up and went to her, tentatively reaching out to touch her. He wasn't at all certain how she'd receive this measure of comfort, but he couldn't just sit there and watch while she trembled from some vague fear left over from this nightmare. His fingers touched her shoulder, just above her collar bone, and she turned into him, sliding her arms around him and holding tight. He could still feel her shaking, and he stroked her hair, absently kissing her temple. She pressed herself against him, feeling reassured by his arms around her and comforted by his gentle kiss. Her shaking eased. She knew, in her dream world as well as in her life, that he was the one who could chase away her demons and subjugate her fears. He spoke softly against her hair. "What was under the blanket, Alex?"

She shuddered, but the trembling did not return. "Nothing," she answered. Tears were now rolling freely down her cheeks. "There was nothing under the blanket. The baby was gone."

He nodded, as though he had expected that answer. She tightened her arms about his waist. She couldn't let him go. She'd lost him in that dream, and her world had collapsed. She wasn't about to let that happen again.

He waited a few minutes before he asked, "Then what happened?"

"I turned back…toward the door…and you were gone."

"I…I was gone?"

He sounded genuinely surprised. She nodded, gripping him tighter. "You...you were the one in the doorway. The baby was gone…and you were gone…and everything…everything just…fell apart and went away." She was crying now. "And I was alone…spinning out of control…and…and…there was nothing…"

He held her firmly against him, an arm across her back and a hand against her head. He rested his cheek against the top of her head. He understood. He really understood. Similar dreams of abandonment, of emptiness, of…nothing…had plagued him all his life. And he'd never had anyone to turn to, to seek comfort from. He didn't quite understand why she was having such dreams, but he would never belittle her by suggesting they were meaningless.

He gently guided her back to the couch and sat down with her. Her sobs had quieted and her arms had loosened their death grip around his waist. She sat back and looked at him. "So," she asked, only half-joking. "Do you think any less of me now?"

He frowned. "Why would I do that?"

"I always thought I was stronger than that."

"Than what? Your subconscious? No one is a master of their subconscious, Alex."

"Ok, Dr. Freud, what does my dream mean? And don't tell me I want to sleep with my father."

He laughed softly. "Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar. Remember what you said the other day, about not having a baby?"

"Oh, yeah…something else I never meant to tell you. Thanks for reminding me."

"What do you think I'm going to do? Run and tell your sister how much it hurt you to give up the baby? Or tell your folks you feel empty inside because he's gone?"

She stared at him. Conflicting emotions battled inside her. She didn't know whether to hug him for understanding or to hit him for the same reason. But she had been right about one big thing---Bobby understood. She opted for the hug.

Resting her head against his shoulder, she was comforted by his arms around her, and she felt better than she had since they'd taken the baby away. For the first time, she felt like everything really would be okay, like she would be okay.

She turned her face up toward his and met his eyes. She didn't move, seeing something in his eyes that disturbed her…a deep sadness she had not seen before. But it was fleeting, gone before she was even sure it had been there. But it _had_ been there and she knew it. It didn't take Sigmund Freud to understand why it was there. Fear of abandonment, loneliness…those were his constant companions.

She felt an overpowering urge to comfort him just then. She leaned her face closer and let her lips touch his. His eyes slid closed and he leaned into her kiss. All fears of abandonment, all feelings of loneliness, of emptiness were chased away as he pulled her closer, as she kissed him more deeply.

He pulled back reluctantly, breaking the kiss and struggling hard to get himself under control. His breathing was ragged, his world was spinning, and he was asking himself, _What the _hell_ are you doing?_

She rested her head back, also struggling to catch her breath, to control her raging…desire? She sat up suddenly, looking around the room as if a fog had lifted. This wasn't a dream, not this time. She looked at him, seeing his confusion and a desire that rivaled her own. She could also see his struggle, and she knew he, too, teetered on the edge of a precipice neither could fall from. But she leaned toward him again, and he did nothing to stop her, except mutter a feeble protest that was lost before it was uttered as her mouth claimed his again.


	6. Comfort

She wasn't at all sure what was going on. She did know that she felt more settled, more in control of herself. Was it because she had kissed him, and he had allowed it? He could have stopped her, moved away…left. But he hadn't. Maybe he sensed her…what? Could he read her so well that he sensed her desire? Was it even real desire? Maybe she just needed love, and she was seeking it from him. She looked at her face in the mirror. Yes, it was her face. Damn…what was she doing to him? To them? The last thing in the world she wanted was to screw up their partnership. Life was complicated enough.

She had kissed him as a measure of comfort, in response to the deep sorrow she'd caught in his eyes. When he hadn't objected, she'd drawn her own comfort from his closeness. And she felt so much better now. He had been the one to withdraw, to question of himself what was going on. She'd seen that in his confusion. She knew he had not expected that from her, and she was surprised by it as well. But she couldn't deny that it felt damn good…and she didn't think he would either. Splashing water on her face and drying it, she took a deep breath. Yes, she did feel better.

She half expected him to be gone when she went back into the living room. But he wasn't. He was still there, on the couch, head leaned back, eyes closed. "Bobby?"

"What?" His voice was quiet.

"Do I need to apologize again?"

"For what?"

She sat down on the opposite side of the couch. He turned his head and looked at her. He didn't need an answer and she knew it. He sighed. "No, Alex. Please don't apologize. Unless…"

She understood what he meant. Unless she regretted it, which she definitely did not. "No regrets, Bobby. Not unless I've hurt you."

His mouth eased into a smile, and she was relieved to see the smile touch his eyes. "You didn't hurt me."

No, not an ounce of hurt was involved if she didn't regret it. But she was certainly driving him nuts. He had no clue what to make of her, and he just…he wanted his Alex back. Not that he didn't love her all the same, but he couldn't take her being all over the emotional map like she was. He couldn't follow her map and he was so lost he didn't know what to do. Following her lead just made it worse, but there was nothing else he could do. He wasn't going to abandon her, not when she needed him. But there was something behind her lability, something beyond hormonal fluctuations. And he had an idea what it was.

Against his better judgment, he set foot into uncharted territory when he softly asked, "Is this about the baby?"

She looked at him, and he didn't miss the tears that welled in her eyes. "What…what do you mean?"

He motioned to her. "Come here."

When she hesitated, he reached a hand toward her and, taking her hand, drew her closer. She let him. And she slid into his arms, burying her face in his chest. He put his arms around her, holding her in a protective hug. His voice quiet, he said, "You feel empty inside, because the baby is gone, and you don't know how to make it better."

She nodded against him. He hit the nail on the head, and a new wave of desolation struck her, drawing forth tears she thought she had cried out. "I miss him," she managed quietly.

He nodded. He didn't understand how that felt, but he could understand why she felt that way. She had carried that little life in her for nine months, and she had loved being pregnant. That much he knew. Now that he was gone…and she had no baby to hold in her arms…she must be feeling empty and alone. The empty and alone feeling he could sympathize with. He knew exactly how that felt, and it hurt him that she was feeling that way. There was nothing he could do to alleviate it, either. Nothing more than hold her, than listen to her, than comfort her. And he felt inadequate. He kissed her head. "I'm sorry, Alex. I wish there was something I could do, some way I could make it better for you."

She shook her head and pulled back from his chest. "You don't have to apologize. You have no idea how much you have helped me." She took a deep steadying breath. "I know this is something I have to come to terms with. Until the time comes when I can have a baby of my own, nothing is going to change." She laid a hand on his cheek. "But you _have_ made it better, Bobby. Because you understand."

He shook his head. "No, I don't."

She smiled. "You do…more than you know. I…I don't know what I'd do without you."

She slid her arms around him again, hugging him firmly. He returned her hug. He wasn't sure what he'd done, but it had obviously been the right thing. God help him if he ever had to do it again, because he was clueless. But she felt better, and that was what mattered. In the meantime, he just contented himself with holding her, and enjoying having her close.


	7. Sweet Dreams

Eames was lying on the couch, watching television and enjoying the smells drifting from the kitchen. True to his word, her partner was fixing her dinner. She was still skeptical, recalling the many meals her mom had fixed that smelled great but lost something in the translation on the palate. Several had been bad enough that not even her brothers would eat them, and she'd seen them eat worms and raw clams. Yuck. But she was going to give Goren the benefit of the doubt. He had a chance to prove he could cook, but she was only giving him one chance.

"Dinner's ready," he called.

She took a deep breath and got up. He smiled at her. "You look like a prisoner being called to her last meal. I don't think it's going to be that bad."

"I guess we'll see, won't we?"

He shrugged as she sat down and looked at the table. Well, he did set a nice table. He set a plate in front of her and filled her glass with wine. Red wine, beef dish…he knew how to choose a wine. That was at least something. She'd choked down many bad meals with good wine. Taking a sip, she smiled. "Good choice."

He just grinned and continued to watch her. She looked down at her plate. Pepper beef with rice. Not too challenging. But she had yet to meet an untrained bachelor who could cook. Every guy she'd ever dated specialized in tuna salad and cold cereal. Not one of her brothers could cook—one of them couldn't even heat a can of soup without causing a catastrophe. Thank God he was married. Her dad did all right, but he stuck to simple meals.

"It's not going to bite you, Eames."

Preparing herself for anything, she took her first bite. He watched the surprise spread across her face, and he turned to his own meal. Score one for the guy. "Where'd you learn to cook like this?"

He shrugged. "I taught myself mostly."

"Really?"

He nodded. "My mom first got sick when I was seven and Dad left when I was eleven. I got really tired of peanut butter and jelly. My brother was always gone at a friend's or wherever, but I never had that option. So I took care of Mom. I taught myself to cook so she would at least eat one good meal a day, and I didn't have to eat sandwiches. I guess you could say I learned to cook out of necessity."

This was the first real look into his difficult childhood he'd given her. She knew bits and pieces...his sick and unstable mother, abusive father, apathetic brother... She couldn't imagine how hard it must have been for him. "Bobby, I'm sorry…"

"Don't!" he started angrily. But he stopped, closing his eyes and forcing himself to calm down. He wasn't mad at her; she couldn't know. Finally, he looked at her. Gently, he said, "Don't feel sorry for me, Eames. I…I couldn't take that. Not…not from you."

She thought about how to word what she wanted to say. "I don't feel sorry for you. That's not what I meant."

He waved a hand. "What's past is past. There's no changing it. Forget about it, ok?"

She just nodded, because that was the answer he wanted. But it was something she never would forget. Every little glimpse he gave her into his past she remembered, and it always amazed her how such a gentle, kind man grew out of such a tortured little boy. She'd known plenty of abused and mistreated kids. She'd arrested many of them, too many. But somehow, Bobby had overcome his childhood. Granted, he was eccentric and quirky in many ways. He definitely was not typical. But the longer she knew him, the closer she grew to him, and the more he endeared himself to her. She could no longer even imagine her life without him in it. She didn't want to. Over time, she was coming to realize that her big, intimidating partner had a very vulnerable side. He kept it well hidden, but she had seen it here and there. Little by little, he was letting her in, letting her see who he was behind his cop façade. He was afraid…afraid he would drive her away, that it would be too much for her. She knew better, but there was no way she could convince him of it, except by staying, which she fully intended to do.

"Ok, Goren," she said with a smile. "You can cook for me anytime."

He laughed. He was never able to stay mad or be annoyed at her for long. "Just say the word," he said.

After dinner, he insisted she take it easy while he cleaned up. "Goren, I…"

He gently pushed her toward the couch. "You just had a baby. I can clean up after myself. Go on."

"It's my kitchen."

"It's my mess."

"At least let me help."

"You can help by staying out of the way. Don't argue."

She let out an exaggerated sigh of annoyance, and he laughed. She was surprised, though, that it didn't take him long to finish. "You're done?" she asked when he came into the living room and sat beside her.

"I also learned to clean as I go. It makes everything a lot easier." She studied him intently and he frowned at her. "What?"

"I can honestly say I have never known a man like you."

"Uh, because I can cook?"

"That's just part of it. You are a complicated man, Goren."

He looked away. He still wasn't sure how much of himself he could let her see before she would take off packing, leaving him alone once again. He fully expected that to happen someday. By hiding as much of himself as he could, he felt he was delaying the inevitable, and as much as he knew it would hurt worse the longer it took, he just couldn't let her go. "You have no idea, Eames."

She slid closer to him, so she could rest her hand on his arm without stretching. "I…I really need to thank you, Bobby."

"For what?"

"For your friendship. There is no one else I could have called this morning who would have reacted the way you did. You never got angry. You just came over because I…needed you."

"What good would it do to get angry? You were scared. I…I could let you be scared."

"Why not?"

He looked genuinely puzzled. "Because I…care about you."

Yes, she knew that. He did care, deeply. He showed that all the time, in little ways. She could see it in his eyes, when he thought she wasn't looking. She turned toward him, looking into his face. "I feel better now than I have in weeks. I promise when I come back to work I'll be back to normal."

"That will be nice. I don't like you being…scared like you were."

"I don't care for it much myself."

He laid his hand on her cheek. "But you call me if you need me, ok? I don't mind."

She believed him. He truly didn't mind. On impulse, she kissed him again. She felt him tense, not sure what that was about, but, deepening the kiss, she could feel him relax, slowly. He drew her closer to him. But he pulled away before they got too close to the edge. He knew that once they stepped beyond that, there was no going back. He refused to take advantage of her vulnerability. "I…I need to go," he managed. "It's late."

She nodded, letting him withdraw, understanding why he had to, for them both. "I…hope I haven't made you uncomfortable."

He shook his head. "No. Not uncomfortable." His voice became softer. "I can't let you…" He trailed off, changing directions. "It's not the time for this. I never want you to regret anything you do with me, and this you might. You need to reestablish your bearings, get yourself back to normal. You said you loved me, and I believe you. I love you, too. That's why I have to go."

She nodded. She knew he was right. "Call me tomorrow?"

"Don't I call you every day?"

She smiled. He kissed her one last time. "Good night, Eames." He brushed her hair back behind her ear and tilted his head to see her face. "You know where I am if you need me."

She nodded. He got up and headed for the door. "Bobby?" He turned. "Thank you."

He smiled, then he grabbed his jacket and left. She leaned back into the corner of the couch. She felt a lot better. He was right…she might regret acting on her hormones now. Then things would change in a way she never wanted them to. She never wanted to be uncomfortable around her partner. Maybe later...he wasn't going anywhere and neither was she.

It really was late. She turned off the television and switched off the lights as she headed for the bedroom. She took a quick shower and climbed into bed. When she was warm and comfortable, she picked up the phone and dialed. He answered on the second ring. She smiled hearing his voice. "Hey," she said.

"Is something wrong?"

"No, not at all. I just…I wanted to say good night."

"Ok…"

"Bobby?"

"What?"

"I…" She hesitated, not quite sure what she wanted to tell him. "Thank you again. I really do love you. That's not…it's not going to change. I don't want you thinking I'm entirely hormonal."

He laughed. "I don't. But thanks. I love you, too. And I mean it."

She smiled. "Good night."

"Sweet dreams, Alex."

She hung up the phone and snuggled down under the covers. She slipped off into a comfortable sleep…and she dared to dream.

_fin_.


End file.
